


There's Nothing In This World To Fix Us But We Can Try

by mikefaist



Category: Dear Evan Hansen - Pasek & Paul/Levenson
Genre: Alternate Universe - Everyone Lives/Nobody Dies, Angst with a Happy Ending, Apologies, Guilt, Implied/Referenced Self-Harm, M/M, Nail Polish, Self-Hatred, Tree Bros, au where connor doesn't wear nail polsih but ya boi anxious tree kid does, but like for a sec, gay things kinda happen but not really sorry, in this household we support boys being feminine, uhhhmmmm fuckin idk nailpolish?, you probs wont even notice it
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-08-21
Updated: 2017-08-21
Packaged: 2018-12-18 03:06:55
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,063
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11865372
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/mikefaist/pseuds/mikefaist
Summary: Connor isn't a mean person.Well, he's mean. But he's like, unintentional asshole with weird fucking issues mean.  Not judgmental mean.Connor can't be judgemental mean because he's the stoner kid with long hair and “the temperament of a deranged criminal” as his father has so lovingly said in the past. Connor has no room to judge.And yet, he finds himself doing just that.Or the one where Connor doesn't know how to keep his mouth shut,  there's a nervous boy with sky blue nails, and a half assed but very sincere apology is made.





	There's Nothing In This World To Fix Us But We Can Try

**Author's Note:**

> This is trash. I know it's trash. But it's the first tree bros fic I've decided to publish because it's actually completed. So, yeah. Uhm, if you read this then like...thanks, I guess. Enjoy this 3 am word vomit that probs contain a fuck ton of spelling errors
> 
> Fun Drinking Game: Drink every time I use any variation of the word "fuck".
> 
> Stay safe, don't die.

Connor isn't a mean person.

Well, he's mean. But he's like, unintentional asshole with weird fucking issues mean.  Not judgmental mean.

Connor can't be judgemental mean because he's the stoner kid with long hair and “the temperament of a deranged criminal” as his father has so lovingly said in the past. Connor has no room to judge.

And yet, he finds himself doing just that.

“Hey, is anyone gonna sit here?”

The sandy blond looked up at Connor and shook his head, his eyes blinking quickly and his cheeks somewhat reddened.

Connor never willingly made an effort to talk to people or even acknowledge people. Especially at school. However, finals week was starting very soon and every student decided they needed to use the library, despite not having used it for the last five months. Unlike Connor, who sat in the back every lunch period. So yeah, today was the day Connor had to interact. And this kid with a brown sandwich bag, a blue striped polo, and a pair of new balance shoes seemed the least threatening.

As Connor sat down he couldn’t really help but stare at the boy.

He hadn’t really planned on looking in the guy's general direction, let alone conversing with him. In all honesty, the guy didn’t look like he was interested in making conversation with Connor, either. His plan was just to sit in the library, doodle on his math worksheets, and pretend like he was gonna graduate with anything higher than a 2.3 GPA. But for whatever reason, he couldn’t help but take glances at the boy in front of him. For one, the dude wouldn’t stop tapping on the table. And yeah, maybe Connor could’ve ignored it, but he was bored out of his mind and the tapping was beginning to ring through his ears and serve as a distraction to his distraction. Secondly, he noticed the boys nails.

Connor never considered himself to be a nosy person. Because why the fuck does he need to be? He literally gives the least amount of shits in regards to most things. Especially other people’s personal lives. It’s completely pointless to be invested in his fellow peers and their personal issues. It’s so fucking boring and, overall, it’s just a complete waste of his time. Time he could be spending getting high and watching Seinfeld reruns.

But as he hears the taps and sees the moving fingers, it seems to catch his attention for a completely different reason.

The boys’ nails were painted.

Before even realizing what he’s doing, Connor closes his math textbook.

Connor must’ve slammed it pretty forcefully because the tapping stopped and now he was staring at this boy with soft blue nails and the most nervous eyes Connor had ever seen in his eighteen years of life.

His brain and mouth were apparently both eager to get to the bottom of Mr. Blue Nails’ hidden agenda because he didn’t even bother asking his name before getting to the point.

 “Uhm, are your nails painted?”

 “O-oh uhm, yes.”

He nodded, processing the situation despite it being obvious that the dude just has painted nails. But Connor’s kind of a fucking idiot and really, truly decides to think about it.

Aside from rock bands, Connor had never seen a dude wear nail polish. But even in bands, their nails were painted black to make them look edgy and cool. But this boy in front of him was openly wearing nail polish that was the color of the sky.

And there's nothing really feminine about the guy. Like, he's really...cute but not in a girly way? Like, in a cute dude way. And he smells like cologne.

Without even taking a second to think, Connor comments.

“It's kinda weird don't ya think?”

It wasn't necessarily  _rude._ But then again, Connor doesn't have social skills so maybe it was actually really fucking rude and he just didn't know it.

All of a sudden he sees tears in the corner of the boy's eyes and he turns an even deeper red before standing up rushedly.

“I have to- I'm supposed to meet with some- bye!”

He grabs the brown bag from the table and picks his backpack up off the ground, not even bothering putting it on and instead, rushes out the library doors.

And then it was just Connor.

Sitting at a table in the library.

 Wondering what the fuck had just happened and wondering why he felt really guilty about it.

\--------------------

Connor decided to apologize.  Which is a fucking rarity for him. He genuinely can’t remember the last time he apologized to anyone who wasn’t a family member and meant it.

But this  _not apologizing to a rando_ situation is affecting Connor way more than it should.

So when he goes into the library the following Tuesday, he’s ready to say the things he needs to say in order to move on with his tragic life.

Except Connor doesn't see him sitting at any of the tables in the morning. Or in any classes throughout the day.

He also doesn't see him on Wednesday.

Or Thursday either.

Connors' stomach twists a little bit.

\---------------

“Hey, Zoe?”

“Yeah?”

“Is it weird for guys to wear nail polish?”

It’s after school that Thursday and not having heard from the kid with the painted nails is freaking Connor the fuck out in many ways.

Like, for fuck's sake, how was he supposed to know that commenting on the dude's nails would make him miss three days of school?

Zoe swings her legs over the edge of the couch and shifts into a comfortable position, tossing an apple lethargically. Connor refrains from knocking it out of her hand and focuses on what she has to say. Believe it or not, solving this issue is very important if it means Connor doesn’t have to keep replaying the image of a boy crying and running out of the library because he can’t keep his mouth shut.

 “I mean...not really? Maybe a little bit, but I don't think it's that big a deal. Why? You thinking about trying it out?”

 “No...well...maybe?”

Zoe takes a bite of her apple and raises an eyebrow at her brother who’s currently laying upside down on the couch, reevaluating his shitty life decisions.

“It's just...I accidentally said something rude to this kid who wears nail polish. I wanna apologize but he hasn't been in the library and I can't seem to find him anywhere else.”

“Hold up, you’re willing to apologize to a guy who’s name you don’t even know but it took you until senior year of high school to apologize to me?”

“Different circumstances.”

In Connor’s mind, they were obviously different circumstances. One of them he’d been dealing with for years. It took time and a lot effort even attempting to get better. Hell, sometimes he thinks he's not even _close_ to getting better. But, this one. This one was new and fresh. He still had a chance to fix it before it got worse and it hurt his head just thinking about it  _because he made a cute boy cry._

“How is it different?!”

“Fuck, I don’t know, Zoe! It just is!”

It was silent. Both of them let each other think. They learned to do that. Try and think before saying anything that they’d regret. Neither of them wanted to be at square one again.

He looked over at Zoe momentarily before turning away.

“I mean, he just looked so fucking...broken. Like, I fucking  _judged him_ for something he probably already gets a ton of shit for. But to hear it from me? Fuck, man. I’d cry too.”

Connor knew there weren’t many people in his school who could be as low on the social ladder as he was, but Connor was almost positive Blue Nails was the only person who could possibly be lower.

He feels that twist in his stomach again. He wants to believe it’s because he’s lying upside down but he knows that’s not it. He sits up anyway, knowing it won’t make a difference.

“So, what are you gonna do?”

“Got any nail polish?”

\---------------

It was Friday and Connor really didn’t expect to see Blue Nails considering he’d already skipped out on most of the week. He kinda figured it was one day more and there was no use in showing up at the end of the week. Connor was wrong.

The bell signaling their five minute passing time had rung and Connor was at his locker, shoving old art projects and English assignments from freshman year aside to make room for his long board. Apparently relapsing means no car. No car means he has to revert back to his former way of transportation. A goddamn long board. Zoe offered to take him, but he wasn't about to subject himself to her trashy indie music for however long Larry has a stick up his ass. 

Connor finally manages to cram it in, only breaking an old pottery piece in the process. Not bad.

Just as he’s about to get his textbooks and actually attend his first period class, he hears an all too familiar voice stuttering his way through a too sincere sorry.

He slammed his locker shut the second he caught sight of the gray hoodie and navy blue collared shirt.

Connor swung his bag to the side and shoved his way through the crowd of students, trying not to lose him and trying equally as hard not to drop his textbook.

He kept his eye on the blond hair and the black backpack that was littered with buttons and patches, making sure he didn't get lost between a group of freshman and some students passing out flyers.

Thankfully, the boy had stopped just at the bottom of the stairs, waiting for people to clear out so he could get through safely. Connor was behind him and was almost within talking distance of him. He just had to get a bit closer. He just had to push past a few people so he could get to him, talk to the guy, and finally get rid of this fucking guilt. Connor could nearly grab the kid’s bag but instead, he was pushed into the wall by some prick yelling something along the lines of “outta the way, tall ass.” Connor couldn’t find it in him to care because he just felt so  _angry._ He felt his stomach twist for the tenth time that week because he just wanted to fucking  _apologize._

He shakes his head as he imagines God or whoever the fuck controls the universe or some shit, laughing at him and mocking his inability to be a normal human being. As Connor rubs his shoulder and mentally and verbally curses at himself, he realizes the boy is already walking up the stairs. There’s no way Connor is gonna attempt to chase after him if he wanted to make it to first. Instead, he just watches the kid make his way to the second floor, probably to bio or something. As Connor turns to head to his own class, he catches sight of the boy halfway up the stairs. Connor freezes.

He could see the boy fiddling with his nails.

_Fuck_

Connor couldn’t stop looking as little flakes of blue fell on the steps. The boy continued to scratch off the polish until all Connor could see was a little reminiscence of blue around his cuticles.

His chest tightened and he really just wanted to fucking yell. He wanted to stop giving a fuck about everything and just self-destruct like he had been doing since middle school when things got fucked up because of him. But instead, he pressed his nails into his wrist, swiftly walked to the A wing for AP English, and let the voice in his head tell him he had fucked up majorly and the guilt that made his body ache is what he gets for being a dick.

\---------------

It was Connor’s lunch period and he was in the same situation he was in the previous Monday.

Fuck ton of teens. No empty tables in the library. Completely fucked no matter what.

Connor really doesn’t understand why all of these people can’t just use the labs where it’s probably just as quiet and, even better, is literally full of computers that would be more helpful than the textbooks that haven’t been updated since 1952.

Connor was displeased, to say the least.

After about five minutes of searching for an empty table, he makes his way to a corner in the back of the library. For a moment he thinks he should make use of the library and maybe get a book, but like, not to be a nerd, he’s probably read most of the decent books the school offers. So instead, he sits against the wall in the nonfiction area. It mostly contains books about nature and space and shit so no one really bothers to go back there unless they desperately have to.

Just as he’s about to pull out his sketchbook from his bag to draw some dope ass flowers, he sees him.

Well, he sees his hair,  _but still._

Connor quickly stands to his feet, trying not to make too much noise. He didn’t wanna scare the kid off.

_Yeah, Connor, because the dude is totally the equivalent of a fucking woodland creature who gets scared by noises._

“Shut the fuck up.”

Connor hears some books drop on the other side of the shelf and a quiet mumbled ‘darn it’ before he actually hears the boy speak.

“W-who's there?”

Connor pushes aside a few books, peeking his head through the shelf making eye contact with Blue Nails, and tries his best at a smile.

“Uhm, hi.”

The boy’s eyes go wide with fear andit instantly makes Connor’s heart hurt. Now he knows the kid definitely associates Connor with fear and probably a lot of other shit since Connor isn’t the most well liked amongst the majority of the student body. And it’s not that Connor hadn't thought about the boy being afraid of him, it’s just now those thoughts of paranoia and self-hatred were valid.

Connor was not, how the cool kids say, pumped.

The guy gathers his books and almost turns away before Connor makes his way to the other side of the shelf to stop him.

“No one's signed your cast?"

It was the first thing that came out of his mouth when he saw the boy because the cast wasn't there when he'd seen him on Friday.

The boy shakes his head and trembles a bit as if Connor might break his other arm or something.

"I'll sign it." 

"Oh no, you don-"

"Do you have a pen?" He cuts him off and the boy reaches into his pocket, pulling out a sharpie that's probably been in there all day.

Connor writes his name in large, scratchy letters making sure to take up the entirety of the cast.

He hands the pen back to the boy and smiles.

"There, now we can pretend we both have friends."

The boy is reluctant, but he nods in agreement.

There's a beat of silence before Connor decides to speak again.

"Also, uhm, I'm sorry I was a dick to you last week. About your nails? I just...you shouldn't stop doing something you like because assholes like me say asshole things.”

The boy looks clueless like he hadn't been scraping his nail polish off three days ago because of a dumb comment from a dumb guy.

And Connor may or may not think the way his eyebrows pull together in confusion is the cutest thing he’s seen in his entire life.

_Not the time, dude._

“I saw you take it off. The nail polish. On Friday? And I know that might be- it probably is- because of me and I'm sorry.”

The guy nods his head again.

Connor’s not sure if that means they’re all good now or if the boy genuinely doesn’t want to talk to Connor because he’s a dick and he says mean things.

“Uhm, if it makes you feel any better I kinda did my nails too.”

Without even thinking he shoves his hands in the guy’s face, like a fucking psycho, and watches as the startled boy takes a step back.

Connor’s nails were painted a dark purple, slightly chipped cuz it's been a few days since he first did them and he probably would’ve felt angrier if he’d taken it off after Friday. He kinda felt obligated to wear it at this point.

The boy laughs and covers his mouth quickly.

“That's…”

“Awful?”

The boy laughs again and it’s light and pretty and it rings in Connor’s ears.

“I was gonna say terrible but awful works too.”

“Hey, practice makes perfect, right?”

“Definitely.”

There’s a pause in conversation before Connor realizes something.

"Uhm, what’s your name by the way?”

“Evan.”

“Connor.”

They’re both smiling and it’s nice and dumb because they’re just two dudes chilling in the nonfiction section of their school library. Connor really wants this to last because he’s never really had a friend and this might be the closest he ever gets. He quickly pulls out his phone to check the time. He grins when he finds out they have a good thirty minutes before the bell for fifth period rings.

"Wanna get lunch?”

For a moment, Evan looks shocked. But like, not in a scared way. It was more of a  _no one ever asks to go anywhere with me so I’m freaking out is this what friendship is like_ kind of way.

Evan composes himself a bit, smoothes out his denim colored button down, and trades his shocked expression for a much more happier and delighted one. Still a bit nervous though, Connor notes.

"Y-yeah. I'd really like that.”

They start making their way out of the library with arms brushing against each other occasionally, and a comfortable silence falling over them.

"Uhm, who's driving?” Evan questions when they’re walking out the front doors and into the parking lot.

"That depends.”

“On w-what?”

Connor looks at Evan grinning, the wind blowing his hair into his face, and his heart racing just a tad.

“Do you think two people can fit on a longboard?”

**Author's Note:**

> instagram: mikefaists
> 
> tumblr: mikefaistt


End file.
